


No Trespassing

by ru17



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: - Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bondage, But very very very light omorashi, Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Dark Avengers Team, Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Tony Stark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, First Time, Gangbang, Humiliation, I Want That Twink Obliterated, Like literally less than a sentence of omorashi, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mindbreak, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, Omorashi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Public Humiliation, Spitroasting, Stuck in a Wall Porn, Unprotected Sex, Unrealistic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22856179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ru17/pseuds/ru17
Summary: On the first day of his high school practicum, Peter Parker gets lost trying to navigate the wide open spaces of Upstate New York.Not wanting to be late on his first day and risk failing, he decides to take a shortcut through some private property and hop a fence.In hindsight, being late wouldn’t have been so bad.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Avengers Team, Peter Parker/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 31
Kudos: 1125





	No Trespassing

**Author's Note:**

> This is just 10k words of dumb trashy guilty pleasure smut. Expect zero depth here folks bc there is none to be found. I hope you enjoy anyway!

The last two weeks of Peter’s high school career were supposed to be spent navigating the industrial bliss of a prestigious internship at OSCORP. Peter had slaved away at his application for six months. He’d done four separate interviews to be chosen as the right candidate. And he was determined not to screw it up once he’d been granted the position.

Yes, it meant living Upstate for two weeks, away from Queens and from May, but the hotel was decent and Midtown Tech was paying for the whole trip, so he really didn’t have much to complain about.

Except that Upstate New York was practically an uninhabited wilderness.

He didn’t know how people managed to get around when their roads weren’t on a grid system. And why the hell was there so much...empty space everywhere?? Didn’t these people know there was a housing crisis in America? Every single property Peter frantically jogged by took up more land than his entire apartment building back in Queens did.

So really, it wasn’t his fault that he was running late. OSCORP’s R&D facility was supposed to be a twenty minute walk from his hotel. He left forty minutes before he was scheduled to be there for the first day of his lab tech practicum. He should’ve had plenty of time. Nothing was supposed to go wrong.

And then everything did.

The GPS on his phone decided it couldn’t find where his location was. Fine, whatever - Peter was a genius. He could figure this out old-school style.

But then it decided to add roads that definitely, absolutely were _not_ where they should be. The map said to turn left onto Richter Street and then right on Morrison Ave. What it _failed_ to mention was that Morrison Ave followed the curve of a roundabout and branched off into North and South. So was it right onto Morrison Ave _North,_ or Morrison Ave _South?_ Peter chose North.

North was not correct. Of course, Peter didn’t realize that until _ten minutes later_ (seriously, why the heck would anyone want to live in a place where you could walk for _ten straight minutes_ and not reach a new road?? There were like four whole buildings within a ten mile radius, it _sucked)_ and by the time he turned around ran down Morrison Ave _South,_ he was already dangerously close to being late for his first day of his practicum.

Acing this practicum would be the fastest, most sure-fire way to guarantee a career at OSCORP after he’d obtained his biochemistry degree. It was the future he’d been working towards since middle school, and he was _not_ going to blow it just because everything five miles north of New York didn’t know how to label their dumb roads properly.

His only chance of making it to the lab on time would mean cutting across the private property separating him from the main road. Normally, Peter wouldn’t dare trespass - May taught him better than that - but desperate times called for desperate measures, and his whole future was at stake, here.

Mind made up, Peter jogged across the barren road and skidded into the mouth of a long, winding driveway. The whole property was fenced; a tall, solid wood wall that towered a good three feet over Peter’s head, complete with overlapping rows of barbed wire at the top.

Not exactly the most welcoming place. But he didn’t have time to spare - even if it meant slicing his hands up jumping over it, cutting through this person’s backyard and jumping their fence was the only way he’d make it to the lab on time.

Luckily, the fence was decently shrouded behind a whole forest’s worth of daunting, luscious trees. It reminded Peter of an overgrown Central Park, dark and shaded as he sneakily followed the fence around the perimeter of the property. He tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but thankfully, no one seemed to be around. Even the glimpse he caught of the fancy house further up the driveway had all of its windows dark, like nobody was home.

So he wasn’t too worried about getting caught, even though he felt bad for violating the prominently displayed _NO TRESPASSING - PRIVATE PROPERTY_ sign that was riveted to the outside of the fence beside the driveway.

Whatever. It wasn’t like he was here to steal anything - he was just trying to get to work on time. He doubted they’d even be mad enough to call the cops if they caught him.

As Peter ventured further into the backyard, the state of the fence steadily declined, like the homeowners didn’t care about the parts no one could see. _Rich people should take better care of their stuff,_ Peter thought to himself, grumpy that he hadn’t yet come across a spot easy enough to jump over. He’d have to start climbing trees if he didn’t find one soon. He was running dangerously low on time.

Just as that thought hit him, the fence took a 90-degree turn, and through the dense trees Peter saw a gate breaking up the monotony of the heavy wooden wall. Invigorated, he sprinted to the gate, only to have his hopes dashed when he realized it was as locked and barred as it could possibly be, given its state of disrepair. Heavy iron chains looped around the latch, as if the homeowners _really_ hated whoever they shared the fence with. He could probably kick it down, if he tried hard enough. But that would be way worse than simply trespassing.

Frustrated and defeated, Peter hung his head, and from the corner of his eye, he saw it - a flaw in the chipped paint - a dent? _No -_

A _hole._

Peter almost cried with relief. He couldn’t believe it - it was _perfect._ Probably would be a tight squeeze, and it might take him a couple minutes to work his head and shoulders through, but - it looked wide enough, if only barely. He was going to make it on time!

The hole was just about stomach height, so he had to bend over to peer through the other side, dismayed when all he saw was more trees. Up close, the hole really did seem like it’d be a tight fit, but even if his shoulders and hips got a little scraped up, it was better than showing up for his first day of his practicum with gouged, bleeding hands.

True to his theory, it took some finagling to get his head and shoulders through. He had to remove his jacket first and shove it through the hole, draping it over a bush on the other side to keep it from getting muddy, but even that wasn’t enough. Next, he had to tilt his body and push one arm through with his head, the other pinned along his ribcage, his ear pressed tight to his bicep.

It hurt, forcing himself through, but it worked. He managed to roll himself up tight enough that he got both arms through the hole, leaving only his lower half on the other side.

And that was the moment Peter realized how badly he’d fucked up.

Unlike with his shoulders, there was no way to angle himself properly to slide his hips through one at a time, and together, they were too wide to make it through the hole. Peter even tried squishing his hand back through the opening and hastily undoing his belt, yanking his jeans down past his thighs to see if that made any difference, but all it did was ensure the sharp, jagged edges of the hole scraped against his bare stomach and dug into his hip bones hard enough to bleed when he desperately tried to pull himself through.

He was stuck.

He was _fucked._

Quick, panicked breaths escaped his lungs as he pushed hard against the fence, desperately trying to pull his hips through. It didn’t help that the hole was high enough off the ground that he had to stand on the tips of his toes, barely having any leverage to push himself off the ground. The fence creaked and groaned as he struggled to go through it, but at this point, Peter really didn’t care if he brought the whole thing down anymore.

It was hard not to feel sorry for himself. He just wanted to make a good impression on the first day of his practicum. He just wanted to graduate high school and go to university, so he could make something of himself, so he could have a future and a decent life and pay Aunt May back for everything she’d done for him. It was all supposed to start today. And here he was, screwing it all up.

Peter hung his head, even though there was nobody around to see the wetness in his eyes.

And then, from behind him, a man said: “You look like you could use a hand.”

Yelping, Peter jerked forward, wincing when the harsh edges of the hole dug into his skin, startled and humiliated. “I’m sorry!” he said immediately, horrified that the homeowner of the property he was currently trespassing on had caught him like this, stuck in his fence with his jeans pushed down past his butt. “I wasn’t - I wasn’t trying to cause trouble, sir, I was just - I was running late and trying to take a shortcut, I’m so sorry, please don’t call the cops.”

“I’m not gonna call the cops,” the man said. He didn’t even sound angry. Peter almost wept with joy. “I’m gonna help you out, okay?”

“Okay - yes, thank you, thank you so much.”

Even though he was expecting it, he still flinched when two large, rough hands wrapped around his hips, brushing the bare skin above the waistline of his boxers. Peter’s face burned red as the man stepped up behind him, gently pulling him through the hole in the fence, guiding Peter back on the tips of his toes.

His shirt was pushed up to his armpits in the process, exposing his naked back to the stranger behind him, and Peter tried desperately not to die of embarrassment. The guy must’ve thought he was some total weirdo, bent over practically half-naked with his butt stuck in the side of his fence.

With his shirt rolled up to his arms, there was too much extra padding to stick his hand back through the hole and do the reverse of what he’d done earlier, sliding in one arm first and then the other. He struggled for a minute to push his shirt down, hissing as the splintered wood of the hole gouged his hands, hyper-aware of the man’s hands tightening ever so slightly on his hips.

“You really got yourself into quite a mess, didn’t you?” the man said, chuckling a little. “I think you’re stuck there pretty good, kid.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter said again, ashamed of the way his voice broke. “I’ll...if they have to cut it down, I’ll pay you back for the fence repair, sir, I promise. I really didn’t mean to - ”

“There’s no need for that,” the man interrupted him. Peter went silent and still when the hand enclosed around his right hip slowly moved upwards, trailing across his bare back. “I don’t think I’m gonna turn you in.”

“Sir…?”

The man moved closer, until Peter could feel him pressed along the backs of his thighs and his ass, his hands still gently moving over Peter’s skin like they were mapping him out. “Call me Tony.”

A shiver ran through him when Tony pulled away, withdrawing his hands from Peter’s body completely. A terrible, sinking feeling settled in his gut, urging Peter to force himself through the fence, even if it meant tearing the whole damn thing down, when the loud, ominous sound of a zipper being pulled down rang through the trees like a gun being fired, and Peter’s budding anxiety blossomed into full bloom. “What - what are you doing?”

“Whatever I want,” Tony said, stepping forward and once again taking Peter’s hips in his hands, not even trying to hide that he was groping him, now. “Which is what happens to little troublemakers who come onto my property uninvited.”

“I - I’m sorry,” Peter gasped, momentarily shocked, but then finding his strength to kick out in an attempt to knock the man away from him. “Please stop!”

A sharp, painful _slap_ came down hard on his ass, and Peter yelped and lurched forward, kicking harder, which earned him another, harder slap. “Stop it!” he screamed, and the man grabbed his boxers and yanked them down, then slapped him two more times in the same spot, which hurt way, _way_ worse. “ _Stop!”_

“You’re gonna be a good boy,” the man said. “You’re going to hold still and take whatever I give you, and if you’re good, _maybe_ I won’t gag you and leave you to rot like you deserve.”

Tears poured from his eyes and soaked his face. This couldn’t be happening. This guy was a psycho - he had to get away, he had to force himself through this fence somehow and _run,_ before -

The man trailed his hand up Peter’s spine, then back down, and slipped it between his cheeks. “ _No,_ ” Peter sobbed, begging, hating the sensation of this stranger’s fingers caressing him down the seam of his ass, down to his balls, pausing over his asshole. “ _No!”_

“So pretty,” Tony said, his voice thick and frightening. “Anybody ever touched you before, kid? You ever had another man touch you like this?”

His fingers prodded at the tight, furrowed crevice, and Peter clenched down, furiously trying to keep them out. “No - so please - please don’t do this - please, Tony, I’m scared - ”

The man groaned, and Peter cried out sharply when the tip of one finger gently pushed past his clenched rim. “Never been fucked,” the man said, his voice breathless. “Never been touched. Probably never even been _seen,_ not like this. And here you are, pretty little dumb virgin, half-naked and stuck in my fence with this perfect ass on display, having the nerve to tell me _you don’t want this._ ”

Tony spanked him again, unforgiving and brutal, and Peter sobbed, utterly helpless. He was crying too hard to even defend himself - he had no idea what this man planned to do to him, but whatever it was, Peter was completely powerless to stop it.

“I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together.” The man sounded like he was smiling. Peter futilely shoved at the fence encased around his hips for all he was worth. “I’m gonna use you like the perfect little gloryhole you’ve turned yourself into, kid.”

Peter gasped like he’d been shot when the man abruptly spat on his hole, providing enough lubrication to push in with a little more purpose. He made a gentle circular motion with his finger, stretching the tight, untouched inner walls, then slowly pulled it free and spat again, pushing in with two fingers, this time.

Peter sobbed and jerked helplessly as the man slowly stretched him, fingering him open. He ended up spitting two more times, making his ass feel horribly, unnaturally wet as two fingers became three, opening him up to this stranger’s prying gaze. Peter gasped for breath, his head starting to feel light and floaty from the uncomfortable angle, hanging his head to stare down at where the fence was piercing the earth, keeping him trapped.

Tony strummed his fingers like he was playing a guitar, moving them in a wave inside of him, gentle enough that it didn’t exactly hurt but so disturbingly invasive that it was making Peter nauseas. He pushed in deeper, stretched his fingers wider, and finally, crooked one inside of him and tapped something that made Peter’s back arch until he was gasping for breath, looking skyward.

“There we go,” Tony purred, sounding smug and pleased. “That felt good, didn’t it? Just wait till it’s my dick, you’re gonna be bouncing on my cock before I’m done with you.”

Peter tried to deny it, but Tony ruthlessly zeroed in on that spot, not pushing hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard and fast enough to completely overwhelm him. The tears drenched the collar of his shirt as they streamed down his cheeks onto his neck, heavy and uninhibited. His soft cock twitched along with the rhythm of Tony assaulting his prostate, and humiliation flooded him when the pressure made a drizzle of urine shoot out of his dick and splash against the fence.

Laughing, Tony held him tighter with his free hand and bared down on him with the other, fucking him harshly on his fingers until Peter’s dick swelled and bobbed to life. Peter tried to kick, his mind going fuzzy from all the blood rushing to his head, but the man simply kicked his unbalanced feet apart and stepped between his legs, keeping them spread as he forced Peter to full hardness.

“Sto-o-oppp,” Peter sobbed. The man was rocking him back and forth on his fingers, making his dick stiffen uncomfortably in the cool morning air. “Please, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry,_ no more...I can’t…”

Tony chuckled, petting down his back and rocking him harder. “I haven’t even started with you yet,” he said, rubbing his prostate extra hard, just to make Peter lurch in his hands. “I do wish I could see your face, though. Bet you’re already soaked in your own drool from how good my fingers feel inside of you.”

Peter wanted to protest, but then he realized there really _was_ spit dripping down his chin - from being bent over the way he was, it was just gravity - and somehow, he felt like the man would know he was lying.

After what felt like a horrible, unbearable eternity, Tony finally withdrew his fingers, leaving Peter drenched and gaping in their absence. He sobbed as the man pulled his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down, past his shoes, then spread his cheeks, revealing his spit-slick entrance to hungry, unfamiliar eyes. “Fuck. Very nice. Can’t believe no one’s had you yet.”

He grabbed Peter by the ankles, pulling his feet off the ground, almost sending him face-first into the fence upside down. The boy managed to catch himself at the last second, planting his palms hard into the dirt to keep himself from smacking into the solid wood, crying out when the man pinned his ankles to the fence beside his hips, his legs burning all the way down with the stretch.

“Flexible, too. You really are a catch,” the man said, and then he was pressing forward, the wet, hard rod of his erect cock sandwiching between Peter’s cheeks. “Look at that. Right at home.”

“No,” Peter begged again, unable to even struggle much in this new, painful position. “Please don’t, please, don’t…”

His pleading fell on deaf ears. Tony started rocking his hips, dragging the wet head of his cock all the way up the valley between Peter’s cheeks, slathering him in the precome already leaking from its slit. Peter whimpered as the slippery head trailed back and forth over his stretched hole, slow and deliberate, like the man was just toying with him, dragging the inevitable out as long as possible.

“You’re trying to suck me in,” Tony said, as though politely informing him. “Every time my dick slides over this greedy hole of yours, it opens right up. Fucking cockhungry little thing, aren’t you? I’m sorry for keeping you waiting so long. Don’t worry, you’re gonna get more dick than you can _handle._ ”

The sound Peter made when the man finally pushed the head of his cock inside him was almost inhuman. It was a long, deep groan that felt like it was pulled right from his stomach, all the way up his throat and past his lips. Tony kept pushing, and pushing, and _pushing,_ and it felt like it would never end, even when Peter was sure there was no room left inside him, Tony sank in deeper.

“Should fuck you just like this,” he rasped, squeezing Peter’s ankles painfully tight. “With just the tip.”

_The tip?_

“Gh-hngah,” Peter choked, scrabbling desperately at the dirt beneath his hands when Tony started doing just that - fucking him with the head of his cock, pulling all the way out and pushing all the way back in, over and over again. “ _Mmnnngh!”_

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Tony chuckled, his pace fast and steady. “Bet the head of my dick’s nudging right up against your sweet spot. I should make you come just like this, turn you into my eager little fucktoy just with the tip of my dick.”

 _That can’t be just the tip,_ Peter silently begged, equal parts disbelief and desperate hope. It felt like Tony was splitting him open on every thrust, impaling him harder and deeper than was even physically possible. Every push in forced the air right from his lungs - his arms started going weak, turned boneless and shaky under the powerful assault of Tony’s thrusts.

“You feel fucking incredible - fuck, strangling my dick so good, baby. Never had such a greedy hole wrapped around my dick. I’ve had whores that haven’t sucked my cock as hungrily as your ass is.”

 _I’m gonna die,_ Peter thought, and lifted his hands from the ground, bracing himself against the bottom of the fence where his upper body hung, limp and powerless to do anything but be fucked within an inch of his life. He pillowed his face on his arms and tried to focus on the cutting pain of the hole in the fence digging into stomach, scraping his skin raw, and not how Tony’s cock was expertly hammering that treacherous spot deep inside of him.

“Your cock’s dribbling all over my fence,” Tony said, and pushed in harder and deeper, as if in punishment. “Trespassing, _vandalism -_ ” he pushed and pushed and pushed, until he finally bottomed out, then drew back and thrust forwards again, brutally fast. He started fucking Peter so hard he was practically riding him, making him cry out so loud it echoed off the trees towering over them. “ - Not to mention the _noise complaints,_ goodness, the lungs on you.”

“No more,” Peter begged, shuddering as his cock twitched, pleasure pooling deep in his gut. His balls felt heavy and full and hot. “Please…”

“Poor thing,” the man cooed, and finally dropped his numb legs from where he’d pinned them against the fence. Peter’s feet were so numb from the blood loss he couldn’t even feel the tips of his shoes digging into the ground. “Let’s get this pretty little ass creampied just like you need, hm?”

Peter couldn’t do anything to stop him - his legs wouldn’t work, his arms wouldn’t work, his _head_ wouldn’t work. Tony’s fingernails bit into his skin as he held him by the hips, bouncing him back and forth on his cock and driving in to the hilt each time.

The man rode him harder, and deeper, and faster, and the pressure was too much, it was more than he could stand. He arched his back and moaned gluttonously as he came, shooting hot stripes of come all over the peeling paint of Tony’s shitty fence. His hips moved in time with Tony’s thrusts, riding the hot stab of pleasure that seared through his gut every time the fat head of the man’s dick impaled him in just the right spot.

“Look at that - someone came big time,” Tony chuckled. He pulled Peter flush against him and held his bucking hips still as he jackhammered his hips, so hard Peter’s vision started darkening at the edges. “Fuck - here it comes - ”

Tony moaned, loud and guttural as he came, flooding Peter’s insides with scorching heat that filled him unnaturally deep. Peter writhed, whining at the foreign sensation of his body being stuffed full with another man’s come, and heard Tony laughing where he was bracing himself against the fence, catching his breath.

The man stayed buried inside of him, panting just as hard and desperate as Peter was. Peter pushed against the bottom of the fence, trying to stretch his back out to get some of the blood back into the rest of his body from his head. The man’s softening dick was still an unpleasant weight and fullness inside of him, and every little movement made him painfully aware of it, till it was the only thing he could focus on.

Finally, Tony pulled out, making Peter’s face flush even worse when a splash of hot, wet come poured down his thighs. “Now that’s a sight - baby’s first creampie,” Tony laughed, spreading his cheeks wider to get a better look. “Should take a picture to remember it by - this is a big moment for a fledgling gloryhole like you.”

“Shut _up,_ ” Peter sobbed, watching his tears soak into the earth below him. It wasn’t even that this man had raped him and stolen his virginity, that wasn’t the worst part - the worst part was that his dick was still pulsing where it hung between his legs, dripping drops of come like a leaking faucet, because of the things this man had done to him.

“I guess I haven’t been successful at teaching you any manners,” Tony said, slapping his wet dick against Peter’s ass cheek. “I think we should keep that bratty mouth full until you’ve learned to speak more politely.”

Tony stepped away from him, and Peter froze, convinced any moment he’d hear the chains rattling as the man pulled the gate open and came through, but instead, he heard a gentle tapping, a muted beep, and then - “Hey, Steve. You at home?”

_What the fuck._

“You should come into your backyard. South side, by the gate. I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

Peter’s eyes widened in terror.

_He’s inviting someone over!_

Desperation renewed, Peter clawed frantically at the hole wrapped around his waist, trying to break a piece off big enough to let him slide through. The wood croaked at him as he struck it fervently with the heel of his palm, but the hole didn’t give way, no matter how hard Peter hit it, twisting and flailing for everything he was worth. Tony said nothing, either still on the phone with _Steve_ or sitting back and enjoying the show, watching Peter wearing himself out further, and the silent mockery just made him angrier, more determined to escape.

And then he heard the gentle patter of footsteps, and looked up through his sweat-damp bangs, and saw a large man looming over him.

 _Please don’t let this be Steve,_ Peter prayed, whimpering at the newcomer’s intimidating stature. He had to be at least a foot taller than Peter, and probably more than a hundred pounds heavier, by the looks of it - this guy was _jacked,_ so ridiculously muscular that his shirt looked like it was seconds away from splitting down the seams. He had neatly-cut gold hair and a thick, blond beard that made the blue of his eyes stand out on his shadowed face. He looked gentle, but Peter almost couldn’t bear to let himself hope. “Please...please help me.”

The guy appraised him, looked down at Peter’s jacket draped over the bush in front of him, then met his gaze. “You shouldn’t be here. This is private property.”

Peter’s heart sank. “I know, I’m sorry - I was running late and - ”

“There was a sign,” the guy said, unnervingly calm. “It said No Trespassing.”

“I _know,_ I shouldn’t be here, it was stupid and I’m - ”

“Steve?” Tony called behind them, and that one small word made a whole new flood of tears run down Peter’s cheeks. “How’s he look?”

Steve stared at him, kept their eyes locked together as he called back, “You haven’t seen him?”

“Just this end,” Tony said loudly, and gave Peter’s ass a playful slap. “Which is a _sight,_ I must admit.”

“He’s a sight all over, then,” Steve answered, taking Peter’s face by the chin and lifting his head up, examining him like livestock. “Real cute, Tony. Just your type. He’s a baby-faced pretty boy.”

“Shit,” Tony said, quieter, and Peter whimpered when he rolled his hips against him again, rutting his half-hard dick into the plush underside of Peter’s ass. “We hit the jackpot this time around, Cap. You wanna give him something to suck on while I teach this ass who it belongs to?”

Steve was already pulling open his jeans, pushing them down far enough to pull his semi-hard dick free. Peter balked at the sight of it - it wasn’t even fully hard, and already, it was way larger than any dick he had ever seen, certainly bigger than his own - and tried to scrabble away helplessly as the man stepped closer. “No! Get away from me!”

“He’s not as sweet-tempered as he looks,” Steve remarked disapprovingly, pulling his hands away when Peter clawed at him. “You might have your work cut out for you, Tony.”

“Trust me, he’s _real_ sweet when he’s coming on my dick,” Tony said, reaching between Peter’s legs and wrapping his hand around his balls - not hard enough to hurt, but definitely a warning. “I’ll show you in a minute.”

Steve hummed, and started stroking the length of his shaft idly, urging it to full hardness. Peter tried to swat him away again when he stepped closer, and the man reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, still bunched up around his chest, and pulled it over his head, halfway down his arms. Peter flailed and struggled, but the man yanked his arms back and twisted the material of his shirt, knotting and tying it tight at his shoulder blades, binding his arms behind his back. _No, no - oh please God no -_

“There we go,” Steve said, low and satisfied. He took his dick in hand again and pumped with a little more vigor. “A little less feisty, now.”

Peter tried to glare up at the man, but it was hard to see his face when his dick and balls were _right there_. Steve was standing so close it almost felt like his cock was hovering over Peter’s head. He didn’t want to watch the man jack off, so he tore his gaze away - and it instantly landed on his jacket, resting just off to the man’s side. If Peter could just slip one hand free, and distract Steve long enough not to notice, maybe he could slip his phone out of his pocket and dial 911 -

Steve stopped stroking, turning his head to follow Peter’s line of sight. Shit. The man leered at him as he reached down and - _fuck!_ \- picked his jacket up, his hard dick bobbing freely between his legs as he dug around in the pockets. Peter’s blood ran cold when the man’s hand emerged, so large it held both his phone and his wallet in the same grip with ease.

“You won’t be needing this,” he said, holding up Peter’s phone, before sliding it into his back pocket. Hopeless, defeated tears welled up in Peter’s eyes and swiftly ran down his cheeks. “As for _this…_ ”

He opened up the wallet, and curiously rummaged through its meager contents, a handsome smirk gracing his masculine face. “Hey Tony,” he called out, pulling out Peter’s student ID and - _shit -_ his OSCORP intern badge. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“Kid’s name is Peter Parker.” He looked both pieces of ID over critically, like a bouncer judging their authenticity. “Gonna be eighteen in August, student at some fancy technical high school in Midtown. He’s here interning for Norman Osborn.”

“You gotta be fucking _kidding me._ ”

“Nope.” Steve laughed and slid the IDs back into Peter’s wallet, then shut it and chucked it over the fence. Peter’s heart sank as he heard the dull _thud_ of it hitting the ground behind him. “See for yourself.”

Tony’s hands left his body, and a moment later, a delighted, disbelieving laugh filled the air. “Here I am, drinking my morning coffee in my own home, and some teenage punk has the _nerve_ to creep onto my land and get stuck sneaking through my fence. I find him half-naked, ass on display, he tells me he’s a hopelessly lost little virgin - and now I find out he’s actually a barely-legal twink _interning for Norman fucking Osborn._ Is it my birthday, Steve? Did you and the guys arrange this whole shebang?”

“Wouldn’t be as sweet if we did,” Steve replied, stroking his cock with one hand and grabbing Peter by the hair with the other. The boy winced, but Steve merely tightened his grip. “You’re just one insanely lucky son of a bitch, Tony.”

“That I am.” Peter jolted when the man’s hands suddenly returned to his body, caressing him much more intimately, now. They trailed over his thighs and ass, gripped his hips and stroked his back like he was a work of art. “And lucky you, I’m feeling generous as hell.”

“Glad to hear it.” Steve’s hand suddenly yanked upward, pulling Peter sharply by the hair until his head was craned back, forcing him to stare up at him. “‘Cause I wanna fuck this kid’s pretty little mouth.”

“All yours, my friend,” Tony said, making Peter whimper as he spread his cheeks apart once more. “This ass is just begging me for another go. Isn’t that right, _Peter?”_

Sobbing, Peter bared his teeth, futilely trying to wrench his head out of Steve’s grip. “Come on, kid, open up,” Steve was saying, pressing incessantly into his jaw until his teeth hurt. “Tony, you wanna give me a hand?”

“Sure thing.” Peter yelped when his balls were suddenly grasped again, this time hard enough to hurt. “Open up, Petey, Steve has a yummy treat just for you.”

The man’s thumb and forefinger pushed past his lips all the way to his back teeth, where they forcefully separated to pry his mouth open wider. Peter bit down for all he was worth, but Steve was as ridiculously strong as he looked, and the man responded by calmly slipping the glistening head of his huge cock into his mouth, ignoring Peter’s muffled protests.

“God, sounds like he can’t wait to swallow your come,” Tony moaned, gently releasing Peter’s balls to toy with his messy, fucked-loose hole instead. “He’s going to love getting spitroasted. Bet his mouth is just as thirsty for dick as his ass is.”

“He’s sure using a lot of tongue,” Steve said breathlessly, willfully ignoring that Peter was trying to eject the offending object from his mouth by pushing it desperately with his tongue. “Licking my cockhead like it’s the best thing he ever tasted.”

“He’s a natural.” Tony sounded proud, and for some reason, that brought a new wave of fresh tears to Peter’s eyes. Steve’s cock was warm and heavy on his tongue, still swelling as he pumped it gently, making salty precome drizzle into his mouth. Peter bit down hard on the man’s fingers, vicious and feral, but Steve hardly seemed to care, and kept his mouth open as he started slowly rocking his hips.

“I should make you deep-throat me.” Peter whined when the head of Steve’s dick punched the back of his throat, making his whole body lurch. “Should choke you on my dick a little, make sure you swallow every drop when I come down your throat.”

Tony groaned on the other side of the fence, and kicked Peter’s legs apart wider to give himself more room. He rubbed the slippery, spongy tip of his dick over Peter’s come-slick hole and toyed with pressing inside, his other hand guiding Peter’s hips like a doll. “God, Steve. Always loved your dirty talk. Let’s spitroast this twink.”

“Just waiting on you, Tony.”

That was apparently all the invitation Tony needed. He pushed inside, plunging slow and deep like he hadn’t already fucked Peter mindless a few minutes ago. “ _Mnngh,_ fuck. I’m losing my mind over this perfect, tight ass.”

“His mouth is good too,” Steve said, breathless enough that it would be a miracle if Tony even heard him. The man’s thrusts lost a little of their finesse, and he pushed in farther with each one, not even thrusting in halfway and already making Peter choke and gag. “The way he’s lapping up the underside of my cock - God, Tony, he wants it bad.”

Peter sobbed as Tony picked up his thrusts as well, propelling him forward with each one as Steve pushed him back. He was trapped between the two men, powerless to do anything but be taken along for the ride, his arms tied tight behind his back and his waist still firmly stuck in the hole of the fence.

Which meant he couldn’t jerk away - at least not without choking himself on Steve’s cock - when Tony reached down and wrapped a hand around his half-hard dick, laughing mockingly at him as he started stroking it to full hardness. “You’re gonna come on my dick again baby,” he promised darkly, stroking Peter with one hand, bouncing him back and forth on his cock with the other. “Gonna make you come till your cockstupid and fucking _begging_ us to let you stay stuck in our fence.”

Steve moaned loudly when Peter whined around his dick, and fucked against his face harder, plunging in so deep that Peter could feel his throat bulging with each thrust. “Keep talking to him,” Steve said, tightening his grip in Peter’s hair as he fucked his mouth. “He keeps moaning around me - feels so fucking good, I think he likes it.”

“I _know_ he likes it,” Tony laughed, “because his dick keeps twitching in my hand every time I open my mouth.”

Steve snorted. “That’s a first.” His movements became sloppy, and the force of it was starting to make Peter’s vision darken at the edges. He didn’t know what terrified him more - the thought of having to endure more of this, or the thought of passing out at these men’s mercy.

Tony’s hand left his dick, and Peter wanted to be grateful - but now all he could focus on was the way it eagerly bounced between his legs, fully hard and wet from a fresh coat of precome. It was almost easier when it was Tony’s hand making him feel good, as humiliating as it was. At least then, he wasn’t rock hard because of the way Tony’s cock felt pounding against his prostate, or the taste of Steve’s salty precome filling his mouth.

Or the way he was completely, inarguably powerless to stop either of these things.

Tony groped his ass reverently and started fucking him harder, so fast that Peter had trouble staying on the tips of his toes - if it weren’t for Steve thrusting back almost as hard, Peter’s hips would’ve been flattened against the fence by now. He clenched his eyes shut, trying desperately to find anything else to focus on, anything besides how hard his dick was, how Tony felt inside of him, how Steve tasted.

It was impossible not to focus on Steve, though, when he moaned obscenely loud and pulled out until only the tip of his dick was in Peter’s mouth, then pumped himself twice with his hand and came. Peter gasped and coughed as the load filled his mouth, but Steve took no pity on him, and slowly pressed himself further inside, still coming, sinking in inch by inch until he was buried in Peter’s throat.

Peter couldn’t breathe. He jerked in the men’s hands, whining as his throat worked automatically to swallow every drop of Steve’s hot jizz. The man’s balls were brushing gently against his chin and he was petting Peter’s hair, and his dick was still sputtering in his mouth and Peter’s throat was still fucking swallowing, chugging his come independently of Peter’s will. Peter slumped, certain he was about to pass out, when a breathless gasp behind him forced his eyes open again.

“Steve,” Tony practically mumbled. “Steve. Please tell me you just came.”

“Yeah,” Steve half-said, half-asked, sounding confused. “Why?”

The grin was audible in Tony’s voice, then, sounding almost manically gleeful. “Because so did he.”

He pulled out somewhat, as if to get a better look. Tears ran down Peter’s sore cheeks at the man’s sharp intake of breath. “This fucking kid!” he jeered, slapping Peter’s ass hard, making him spring forward and force Steve’s cock further down his throat. “I can’t believe he fucking came just from taking your moneyshot in the mouth.”

“Jesus,” Steve groaned, and mercifully started to pull out, not all the way, but enough to let Peter gulp down desperate gasps of air around the head of his dick. Peter couldn’t help but glance up, and saw the man watching him, staring down at Peter like…like…

Like he was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen.

“Bet that tasted good, huh champ?” Steve said quietly, not - not to mock him, because it was quiet, a murmur. A murmur just for him. “You were a very good boy, swallowing my entire load like that. I know that was a lot.” He stroked Peter’s wet cheeks, then finally pulled his hand from Peter’s mouth. Peter didn’t realize how lax his jaw was until Steve’s fingers easily slipped free. “Come on, Tony, I think he deserves to take yours after taking mine so well. Stop teasing the poor kid.”

“For once you’re right,” Tony replied, taking Peter’s hips in both hands again. “Make sure he doesn’t pass out - I’m gonna fuck him senseless.”

Steve crouched in front of him and laughed, but Peter almost couldn’t hear it over the loud, primal sound he made when Tony started thrusting. This wasn’t anything like the last time - it was barbaric, fast and brutal and hard enough that Steve had to take his shoulders in hand and steady him so Tony wouldn’t fuck him right through the fence. Peter’s vision went white, everything hurt and felt so good at the same time, his balls were aching but his dick was half-hard again and Steve was saying quiet, gentle things to him that made him want to cry, and it was all too much.

When Tony came, he pinned Peter against him like was trying to fuse them together forever, like fucking Peter was so good, he never, ever wanted to pull out, and the thought of that made Peter arch his back, burying his face in Steve’s firm chest, and come untouched, for the third time, as that delicious liquid heat was pumped deep inside of him, filling him up. Peter tried to rock his hips, needing to ride out the rest of his orgasm, but Tony held his hips firm, and Steve was hugging him gently, petting Peter’s hair and back and soothing him while Peter cried overstimulated tears into his neck.

“I’m fucking dying,” Tony panted, his gasping breaths loud and wet when he finally let Peter go. “Fuck, Steve. I think I need a blood transfusion.”

“You’ll live,” Steve said, unsympathetic. He gently pulled Peter away from his chest and carefully let him slump towards the ground, making sure he didn’t smack into the bottom of the fence in his bonelessness. “This kid, though? I think we should get him some water, maybe let him recharge before we invite the guys over.”

Peter twitched, his eyes blinking open as that last sentence hit him.

_The guys?_

“I know I sure as hell need to recharge,” Tony chuckled. The sound of rattling chains made Peter shoot up as far as the fence would allow him, startling him back to wakefulness.

“Aww, Tony,” Steve said, head turned to watch the gate slowly creak open. “He was almost asleep - he’s excited to see you.”

“That makes two of us,” Tony said, and stepped through. Their eyes met, and Peter felt - he didn’t know _what_ he felt. It was almost violating, in a way, that Tony looked so... _human,_ and wasn’t just a faceless, formless monster like it felt he was supposed to be. Worse, he was...nice looking. Handsome, even. Not as tall or muscular as Steve, and maybe a decade or so older, but vibrant, in a way. Almost glowing.

Maybe that was because of the way he was staring at Peter, eyes blazing like a predator who’d cornered his prey. Peter whimpered and kicked feebly at the ground as the man stepped closer, his dark gaze keen and burning, like he was trying to swallow the sight of him. Peter trembled violently with each step Tony took towards him, until he was looming over him, shoulder to shoulder with Steve, but paying the other man no mind.

Until Steve chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You want me to leave you two alone?” he asked jokingly, raising an eyebrow at Tony when the man didn’t reply. “I told you he was your type.”

“You could have told me a little more. Jesus Christ,” Tony grumbled, reaching a hand out to cup Peter’s cheek and ignoring him when he flinched. “Your school photo doesn’t do you justice, kid.”

He didn’t know or understand why that made him blush. That was far from the worst thing Tony had said to him so far. “Pl-please, no more,” he begged in a broken, creaking voice. His cheeks burned when hot, fresh tears poured from his eyes. “No more, no more.”

“Poor baby,” Tony cooed. “Don’t worry, you can have a break. You were a good boy.” He patted Peter’s cheek and knelt in front of him, smiling warmly. “Steve and I are going to invite some friends over. Maybe have a backyard barbeque, grill up some hamburgers, have a few drinks. I want them all to see what a perfect, special boy you are, Peter.”

Cold, blind fear shocked the trembling right out of him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Tony’s dark eyes, his crows feet wrinkled with mirth. He couldn’t mean...this couldn’t be what it sounded like, right? There was no way they actually had an entire group of friends who would facilitate this kind of thing. That just...wasn’t possible, was it? Surely there had to be at least _one_ person who would help him?

Tony’s hand was the only thing keeping Peter’s face up as he broke down into sobs. He didn’t want a whole group of strangers to see him like this. The two in front of him were bad enough. And if the dark look in Tony’s eyes meant anything, he intended for them to do a lot more than just _look_ at Peter when they showed up.

“Don’t,” he begged, forcing the words out through his sobs. “Please, don’t. I don’t want to. I can’t - I can’t, please. Please don’t.”

“Peter,” Tony admonished lightly, like he was teasing him. “You can be honest with us by now. You have absolutely _soaked_ my fence with your comeshots - one of which happened because another man jizzed down your throat after fucking your mouth. You are going to have the time of your _life_ being our gloryhole, and denying it won’t change anything.”

“Fuck you!” Peter shouted, wrenching himself out of Tony’s hand, not caring when the jagged edges of the fence’s hole sliced painfully into his waist. “You don’t fucking know me!”

“Hmm. Sounds like somebody didn’t learn their lesson, Tony,” Steve said. Both men stood back and watched him thrash, arms crossed over their chests, like parents watching a toddler throw a tantrum. Tony’s face had gone especially cold, but Peter was too busy desperately struggling to get out of the hole to give a shit.

“You’re right. I think we can skip that break, Cap. Why don’t you go ahead and invite them over now? We can do lunch instead of dinner.” _That_ made Peter’s struggling stop, paralyzed by the chilling tone of Tony’s voice.

Steve nodded and tucked himself back into his jeans, before turning to leave. “I’ll call ‘em. You want me to bring you anything?”

“A bottle of water,” Tony called, then, after considering for a moment, “And a spider-gag.”

Peter watched Steve disappear into his backyard, then nervously glanced back up at Tony. The man stared at him intently, like he was waiting for Peter to say something. He was even crazier than Peter thought if he expected him to apologize for yelling at him. He’d rather die.

“The longer you just sit there glaring at me, the worse this will be for you.”

Peter jostled his bound arms behind his back to draw the man’s attention to them. “Then let me go.”

The barest hint of a smirk tugged at Tony’s lips. Staring up at him like this was taking its toll on Peter’s aching neck and back, so he let his head drop, knowing it looked like defeat, but too momentarily blindsided by the pain in his body to care.

He didn’t bother lifting his head when Steve came back. “Bucky, Sam, and Clint should be here in about twenty minutes. Bruce and Rhodey both need a little time to wrap up what they’re doing. Thor said he’ll be at least an hour - and he’s bringing his brother.” He handed Tony the bottle of water, who opened it and began to drink from it greedily. Peter could see the loose straps of the gag dangling from Steve’s other hand. “I’m gonna start on the fire pit. You need anything else?”

“Fire pit,” Tony scoffed. “Just wheel the grill over, you caveman.”

“And plug it in where? Campfire cooking tastes better, anyway.”

Tony waved him away. “Have it your way, you guys can handle the food and drink. I think I’m going to have my hands full here.” His tone changed suddenly, took a dip towards something that made Peter’s blood run cold. “Before you go, though...I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to get a little more acquainted with our toy here, first.”

Peter’s head shot up to watch the decision play out on Steve’s face. The man looked him over closely, clearly deliberating on Tony’s offer, before he handed the gag to the other man and walked over to the gate.

Peter sobbed as soon as he was out of sight, knowing what was coming next, but not knowing when. Tony gripped him harshly by the chin and squeezed hard to pry his mouth open, then popped the wide ring of the spider-gag into his mouth.

He thrashed and kicked as Tony adjusted the gag and secured it tight on his face and around the back of his head. The prongs weren’t as painful as they looked, but the vulnerability was a thousand times worse like this. Not to mention, with his mouth pried open and his body hanging parallel to the ground, there was nothing to stop his saliva from pouring out of his mouth. His chin was soaked in an instant. He couldn’t do anything to keep the drool inside as it welled up behind his bottom lip and spilled over.

“That’s a sight,” Tony said as he reached up to undo his tie.

“You can say that again,” Steve replied, breathless. “Jesus, Tony. This kid’s _ass._ ”

“Wait till you’re inside it.” Peter shouted through the gag as the man reached down, pressing the tie over his eyes and tying it at the back of his head, blindfolding him. “Go ahead, Cap. I want to feel him shrieking around my dick when I’m fucking his mouth.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He wasn’t especially slow or gentle as he entered him, and neither was Tony - both men seemed to want to finish before their friends arrived, and as bound and helpless as he was, Peter could do nothing to stop them. Every sound he made was muffled by the hard length of Tony’s cock buried down his throat, but that didn’t stop him from trying - Steve’s massive cock was impaling him, pummeling the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him so hard it felt like his bladder was about to burst. He didn’t bother trying to struggle, this time. There was no point to it - he was as stuck as he could possibly be.

There was almost a distant feeling of peace, at that thought.

He was hard and leaking by the time both men came, but they ignored his erection in favor of cleaning themselves up for their guests. Peter let his body sag, spacing out a little and letting his brain temporarily shut off in the short moment of reprieve they allowed him.

And it was short, because before long, their guests had arrived.

Peter couldn’t see any of them. Tony and Steve didn’t bother introducing them - why would they? Beyond Tony’s laughing remark of, “This is Peter, our new gloryhole,” when they first showed up, no one even acknowledged that he was a real person, and not just a...a fucktoy, on display.

He came when the first stranger fucked him. He was rough and brutal and just as foul-mouthed as his friends - the nicest thing he said during the whole ordeal was, “Fuck, Stevie, this feels amazing.” He had a thick Brooklyn accent and kept calling Peter _doll,_ and he seemed delighted when one-too-many thrusts against his prostate made Peter come his brains out for the fourth time that day. He slapped Peter’s ass till it burned, and creampied him on Tony’s orders.

His mouth was fucked twice more. The first guy’s dick was so big, Peter actually did pass out for a second when he started roughly fucking his throat. The first shot of come hitting him in the back of the mouth woke him up, and he sputtered and coughed as the guy pulled out and finished the rest all over his blindfolded face. He praised Peter in a deep voice, some sort of thick European accent skewing his words ever so slightly.

The second guy didn’t talk much, and thankfully wasn’t as well-endowed as everyone else had been so far. Peter didn’t feel like he was going to die when he bottomed out, anyway. The head of his dick nuzzled the back of Peter’s mouth, like he was making sure he got a good taste of him. Peter whined and writhed as his mouth was fucked slow and gentle, like the guy wanted to be sure Peter was properly servicing every inch of him.

It was demeaning, and humiliating, and the worst part was when he started picking up his thrusts, fucking harder and faster as his orgasm approached, and he stroked Peter’s hair and said, “There’s a pretty little fleshlight,” and Peter jizzed hot stripes of come in front of a fucking crowd of cheering men, who hollered and applauded when the man fucking his mouth finally came, because Peter swallowed, even though the man had pulled out far enough that it didn’t hit the back of his throat.

He lost track of who took him, after that. It lasted hours, he could tell, because the day grew hotter as the sun rose high, then started cooling off again when it started going down. Tony would occasionally pause the abuse to give Peter sips of water, but that was about it. He could hear everyone around him laughing and chatting like it was any other event, the clinking of glass as they drank bottled beer, the smell of grilled meat as they ate and partied. Music was blasting from somewhere nearby, and the day just went on, and on, and on as they took him over and over again.

Peter lost count of how many times he came. After the fifth, they were mostly dry and painful anyway, so he wasn’t mocked for it quite as harshly. His dick and balls were throbbing even more than the rest of him, hanging limply between his legs, so fucking sore that he cried out in an anguished sob when Tony touched them.

“Easy, sport,” Tony said, patting his ass like he was calming a startled horse. “Just gotta add one last finishing touch.”

Peter didn’t have the energy to flinch or pull away when something rough and wet dragged down the skin of his ass - just a nick, a short, straight line - and then another, and another, spanning one cheek, then both cheeks, then steadily making their way down his thigh. Peter couldn’t begin to guess what the hell they were doing to him now, but it didn’t hurt, it didn’t really feel like anything, so he didn’t bother pretending he could fight it.

When he was done, the man stood, and then Peter heard a loud and wet _whoosh_ sound that _did_ manage to startle him. Whatever it was, it didn’t touch him, but the sound was a loud and steady constant for a good thirty seconds, looming right above him, whatever the hell it was.

“And voila!” Tony said, a grin in his voice, matched by the raucous applause of his men around him. “Fine work, gentlemen, fine work indeed. I do believe we’re finished here.”

_Finished?_

Someone stepped in front of him, but Peter had lost the ability to lift his upper body long ago. His shoulders and arms were beyond numb, they didn’t even tingle or hurt anymore. His legs were jelly, and all of his weight was being pressed into the bottom curve of the fence’s hole, which had scraped his skin raw from his chest to his hips.

So he couldn’t lift his head, when Tony knelt in front of him, and gently untied the blindfold before pulling it away. The sun was low in the sky, not quite setting yet, and for some reason, the knowledge that he had missed the entire first day of his practicum and couldn’t ace it anymore, even if they let him go, was more of a relief than a disappointment.

“Look, Petey,” Tony said softly, tipping his chin up. It took Peter’s eyes a moment to focus, and when they did, he realized the man had his phone, which he held up for Peter to see. “I wanted to show you what you look like.”

The photo on the screen was of him - the other end of him. His ass and thighs were streaked with white, wet and drying come, painting his pale skin and the reddish bruises on his ass where he’d been spanked. There were also…tally marks?...drawn in black ink, tacked over his ass cheeks and down his left thigh, counting a total of seventeen... _somethings._

And above Peter’s ass, freshly spray-painted onto the chipped wood of the fence, was the word _gloryhole_ in bright red, looping font.

“See that, baby?” Tony smiled at him. “Look how pretty you are, doing exactly what you were born to do.” He put Peter’s phone down and brushed the messy, come-and-sweat damp hair off of his forehead, where he placed a soft, chaste kiss, before he stood back up.

“Well boys, I don’t know about you, but I think we should give our new toy a little rest while we break for dinner. Let’s reconvene afterwards and see how high we can get that number - I’m betting between all of us, we can get the total number of creampies Peter’s taken here well above fifty. You with me?”

Around them, Tony’s men celebrated, cheering loudly that, yes, they were with him all the way.

Between his legs, Peter’s cock twitched, swelling up until it was bobbing against his stomach. 


End file.
